


Better ideas

by Aisjustrunning



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: CPGradTFLN, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3861382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisjustrunning/pseuds/Aisjustrunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(302): apparently my buddy was fucking on our couch downstairs so i decided it was necessary to walk downstairs naked in a hockey mask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better ideas

**Author's Note:**

> For the Check, Please! TFLN Graduation Fanworks Fest.
> 
> This story only makes some sense and is written in proper English thanks to my beta, [Gemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelowo93/pseuds/gelowo93). You don’t know the mess this was before she got to it, and I’ll be forever grateful for her help. Any remaining mistakes, typos and nonsense are my fault.
> 
> Finding a title for this would have been a nightmare hadn't it been for [Dynah](https://ibakesouffles.tumblr.com), who suggested things like "That Goddamn Fucking Nasty Green Couch", "Love Through a Goalie Mask" and "Shitty No Put That Mask Down What Are You Doing", thus making the process more fun. And this was almost called "Afterparty Smooches".
> 
> [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/) is an amazing webcomic by Ngozi, I claim no ownership and I'm not making any money with this.

Shitty lies in his bed, fully awake, fully plastered and fully naked. Tonight’s party has been fucking EPIC. I’ll-tell-my-grandchildren-level epic. Top-ten-epic-parties-of-all-times worthy. His time in Samwell is running out, so of course he’s stepped up his partying game.

Even Jack was there for the whole thing, instead of running to hide in his room after half an hour, or before the thing even started, like he usually does. He had been nursing what looked like the same beer the whole night, but he had been chatting with people, had signed a few autographs and even agreed to a piggyback race against him and Lardo and Ransom and Holster, Bitty on his back considerably less sober.

Dude, he’s so fucking proud of his bro. He’s going to miss his beautifully awkward Canadian face.

He lies there just thinking about that. About parties, and bros, and leaving. About the last four years of his life. He’s still going around all this in his head when he hears noises downstairs. He stops thinking for a second and starts listening properly, trying to hear whether it was his imagination.

Weird; he had been one of the last ones to leave the party, the last few guests had been leaving just as he’d headed upstairs, and Bitty had started his post-party cleaning.

Deciding to go and check what is going on, he stands up gingerly, still very much dizzy from the copious amounts of alcohol (not enough to leave him unable to think words like copious, though; he’s so made for Harvard Law) and leaves his room.

However, when he reaches the top of the stairs, he starts to pick up the voices coming from downstairs. He can’t really say who they are, but there’s no doubt what they are doing.

Those are undoubtedly sex noises. He hears wet noises that can only be sloppy kisses, followed by moaning. Some rustle of clothes. More moaning. Definitely sex, or everything that comes just before. He hears a thump. Definitely somebody falling on the disease-ridden green couch. Some giggles, some hushed voices.

He is going to go downstairs, because, why not? It seems as much a good idea as having sex on a couch after a party in a house that is not your own. But then he has another idea. A better one. He tip toes back to his room and opens his hockey bag, looking for something. Aha. Here it is. He knew keeping one of these would be useful some time. This is gonna be EPIC.

\----------

Bitty is not sure how he ended up here, against a wall, with his legs wrapped around Jack Zimmermann’s waist. With Jack Zimmermann’s tongue in his mouth. He’s not about to complain, but if you had told him a few hours ago this was going to happen, he would have accused you of drinking too much of the mysterious tub juice.

He had been cleaning the kitchen as people left, because, well, it’s HIS kitchen. He may be drunk, but he can’t stop worrying about his kitchen. Or maybe it’s because he’s drunk that he considered cleaning at 4 am a good idea. Well, he was cleaning, and then Jack was there cleaning too. It could have been weird, but after Jack spent the whole night at the party finding excuses to be with him, even looking for him to be his partner in the piggy ride, he couldn’t really say he was surprised. Or maybe he should have been, but his mind was not too clear, too much alcohol, ok? Oh, dear Lord, what was even in that tube juice?

He can’t even focus enough to remember the whole conversation that led to this. But he knows he wouldn’t change a thing, because Jack is now squeezing his ass with both his hands.

“It’s true, eh? All that working out is paying off,” he murmurs into Bitty’s mouth when they part for air.

Bitty surges forward, capturing Jack’s mouth in his again. Jack tastes slightly like maple syrup, and how is that even possible? He must be drunker than he first thought, but, once again, he’s not going to complain about any of this.

Without Bitty really noticing what is happening and his legs still around Jack’s waist, he’s suddenly away from the wall. Jack is carrying him somewhere, but Bitty doesn’t pay too much attention. Eventually, Jack’s knees crash into the couch and both of them fall down onto it with a loud thump, Jack on top of Bitty.

It takes Bitty a moment to realize where he is and is about to scream in horror at the contact with the green couch, but Jack’s hand is on his mouth before he has time to make a sound, and Jack is giggling. He’s giggling like a school girl, his eyes almost closed, his head down, making an effort not to just burst out laughing, trying to keep quiet.

It’s beautiful. He _is_ beautiful. Bitty even forgets about what he’s sitting on for a second and just looks at Jack, a broad smile creeping to his face despite Jack’s hand still covering his mouth. Bitty could look at him forever.

 Jack recovers from his laughing fit quickly and removes his hand from Bitty’s mouth to kiss him again. When Jack leaves his lips to mouth at his neck, Bitty is able to think again about where they are.

“Jack. Jack, please…. The couch. Can we…”

Jack looks down at him, looks at the couch, and looks as if he’s about to start laughing again. Bitty loves this happy and giggly Jack, but he can’t lie: he really wants to stop touching this couch. He’s sure he’s going to get some kind of rash from the brief contact. He should have got rid of this disgusting thing a long time ago…

Bitty looks up at Jack, who is now wearing a thoughtful expression.

“I think I have a better idea,” Jack says.

Suddenly, his weight is off Bitty and Jack is standing up, pulling Bitty’s arm to get him to stand up too. Jack lies down on the couch and, with a fast pull on Bitty’s arm, he has Bitty on top of him, lying on Jack rather than on the couch.

“You can stay there. You don’t even have to touch the couch,” says Jack, bringing his hands up to run them through Bitty’s hair, before pulling his head down for another kiss.

And Bitty is so on board with this idea. He puts his hands inside Jack’s shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abs, the soft hair there. Oh, goodness. Thank the hockey Gods for granting him this.

He starts grinding his hips against Jack’s, looking for friction, when he hears creaking by the stairs. He stops moving his hips, stops kissing Jack and looks up.

He freezes when he sees Shitty just standing there, naked but for a hockey mask. Shitty is looking between Jack (who hasn’t noticed anything yet) and Bitty. Then, a broad grin shows from under the mask and Shitty gives Bitty the thumbs up before silently going back upstairs.

Bitty is blushing, mortified, when Jack finally notices that he’s stopped moving.

“Bitty. You ok? Is there something wrong? Do you… do you want to stop?”

Bitty looks down at him, still flushed. He takes in Jack’s worried and earnest face. Jack’s blushing slightly too, and Bitty can’t help it. He shakes his head and runs his hands up Jack’s chest, moving his hips and biting softly on Jack’s lower lip, and forgets about everything else.

\----------

Shitty is lying on his bed again, still fully awake, if slightly less plastered and slightly more dressed. Well, if you can call wearing only a hockey mask being dressed. He has the biggest smile ever.

Fucking great, man. Fucking _finally_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about dumb hockey boys being in love on [tumblr](http://ilovetextingandscones.tumblr.com/)


End file.
